[color=598527]Margarita slinked her way through the sewers, exiting out the mouth of the dank tunnels to the waterfront. If only the kine knew their bay was filled with trash, sewage, and dead bodies. She eyeballs the scantily clad nurse, as well as the prince with apprehension before trudging her way over to them. She awaits the rest of the coterie patiently, as in undeath one finds a masterful amount of patience for a death that never comes. The Nosferatu is silent as she stands with the pair, and continues to be so as the gang arrives. While the prince explains the situation, her name strikes a sour chord in her ears when paired with a leadership role. As he and his assumed courtesan depart the meeting of neonates, Margarita da Morto finds herself with all eyes turned to her gaunt face. [color=aba000][b]"Let me begin with a courteous extension to you all: good evening..."[/b][/color] Her eyes trace their forms individually, lingering for a moment on the out-of-place childe (literally and vampirically) amongst them. [b][color=aba000]"I would begin with the stereotypical 'I suppose you're all wondering why I've gathered you', but it seems our prince has taken that luxury from me. We are joined in this coterie for the blood hunt of the one who threatens not only the Masquerade, but ourselves. There are whispers of diablerie on SchreckNet, as well as other unmentionable crimes. As I'm sure you all realize, our existence hangs by a very thin thread if this rogue Kindred, or otherwise, is allowed free reign on our domain. Thus, this forming of coterie is a necessary evil. I know you all have your apprehensions of working with various clans, as we all do... but I ask you all to set these aside for the good of ourselves--ourselves referring to us as Kindred."[/color][/b] She allows her monologue a momentary pause, checking in with her listeners for not only attention but sincerity. [b][color=aba000]"I doubt this is as simple as one not managing their Beast properly. Nor do I think that it's a Lupine, or some similar lesser form. Their movements are too deft--they know what we're doing, why we're doing it, when we're doing it before we even do--and they take great care in masking their identity by using nail, not tooth, for their feeding. What we do know: they're powerful, at most an eighth or ninth generation, they're smart, they're resourceful, and they're dangerous. They've managed to avoid the eyes and ears of the Nosferatu simply through the knowledge of where we gather our information. This means there's either a [i]spy[/i],"[/color][/b] she lingers for not only dramatic affect, but to gauge their reactions to the word, [b][color=aba000]"or they have previous knowledge of these things from close contact with the Nosferatu. Both are feasible, and both should be further explored by us. I charge you all now: what disciplines and similar strengths do you offer that would be of use to our objective? Let us begin with you."[/color][/b] She chooses the pretty boy on the far side of the lineup, and points her bony claw of a finger straight towards his face. [b][color=ed145b]Alexander[/color][/b] was first up for questioning.[/color]